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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112523">Born To Die || Book One</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepublicserviceLP/pseuds/thepublicserviceLP'>thepublicserviceLP</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2081 Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>2081 Series, Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 1, British Character, Female Protagonist, Gen, Hispanic Character, Language, Latino Character, Male-Female Friendship, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Original Universe, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Science Fiction &amp; Fantasy, To Be Continued, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:33:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepublicserviceLP/pseuds/thepublicserviceLP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Historian meets a detective hell-bent on a damning exposé and a mysterious doctor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>2081 Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895995</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <br/>
  
  <br/>
  <em> "Once there lived a vast universe, a Solar System orbiting itself in time, over and over. When they scrape together, they fulfill their role, just like a pair of scissors.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>A tragedy that is burnt in the remnants of history and time. One of the four universes collapsed. The other universes were pitifully unaware of this...until now,"</em>
</p><p><br/>Historia intercepted her monologue, closing the book and leaving it to weigh down in her lap. She folded her hands on top of the cover, looking down to her black pet solemnly. "I suppose everybody knows now, don't they, my heart?" Historia asked the cat quietly, who looked up at her and sniffled, rolling herself up gracefully. "No, I guess not," she finished, shifting and furrowing her eyebrows when the cat strolled onto her occupied lap. Historia picked the cat up, standing up to tuck the book under her other arm as she placed the cat onto the floor. "No, Elliot, you should remember what we went over," Historia nagged, half-hearted and distant before she walked over to her desk.</p><p><br/>Historia sat down, disconnecting her monocle to place it down next to her on the wood with a small clink, unfolding her pince-nez to perch onto the bridge of her nose. With the click of a pen, she began to scribble notes into a small book, looking up occasionally to type a paragraph onto a crowded screen. It had seemed like with every paragraph, half a star would fade away deep into the long-lasting night, with the occasional procrastination routine of rolling her chair back and walking around the room, snapping her fingers or feeding Elliot.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p><em>I've hit a labor jackpot,</em> Historia slurred, although not outloud when her chin melted into her palm, scrolling over the pages on her holographic monitor. Chuckling to herself in an idea that if she had such consistent periods of energy, rumors of computation and mass-manufacture would never stop around her works. Her mouth split open in a loud, draining yawn, but she jolted up with the ending ping of a newborn notification. Opening it left with a downloadable.</p><p><br/>Historia clicked it open, and pursed her lips when the words connected in her head, fulfilling a task left to the back of her mind. Immediately fixing her posture and sitting upright, causing the chair to rush forward as she typed a quick reply.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>Thank you for your insightful information. We will discuss it tomorrow in our usual spot at 1:30 as to figure out its place in my research.</strong>
</p><p><br/>It sent, and Historia didn't have to wait long for confirmation.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>Unexpected, but can be done. You're welcome, by the way.</strong>
</p><p><br/>Exiting out of the tab, Historia let herself a simple nod, picking the notebook back up and separating the pages from the spine. She closed it with her elbow, moving it aside as well and hit the stack against the table upright to balance it. </p><p><br/>"Computer, prepare for intel,"</p><p><br/>"Stand-by," it croaked, and the pages were insert into a slot.</p><p><br/>"Stand-by," it repeated, bright clicking sounds coming from the closed, rumbling compartment. </p><p><br/>"Complete,"</p><p><br/>"Please transcribe the information and complete a comparison," Historia ordered.</p><p><br/>"To which document?"</p><p><br/>"Most recent,"</p><p><br/>The computer stayed silent for a moment, and Historia almost felt in her throat that it hadn't heard her, but the machine soon soothed her worries with clicking and its results. The computer conjured another holograph in front of Historia, which contained the test of both documents. </p><p><br/>Historia scrolled down, her eyes scanning each sentence which ended positively.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Consistent.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Consistent.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Connective.</em>
</p><p><br/>Historia closed her eyes, her chest pressed down to let out a sigh of relief. </p><p><br/>Opening her eyes met with one word -<em>Incomplete</em>.</p><p><br/>Historia's eyebrows shot up, before she tightened her eyes and calmed down, rubbing her temple with a cold, metal claw.</p><p><br/>"Computer, please review statement 58,"</p><p><br/>"Statement 58 remains inconsistent, permission to proceed with correction?"</p><p><br/>"No, state judgement," Historia breathed out, looking over her desk for a second and plucking out a post-it note to write down a reminder for herself as the computer read out "Numerical value for gambling facilities and night attractions in Giacomo Federation in Document 2 is incorrect,' Historia shot up, staring at the machine with a rooted mouth. "Has the number increased?"..."Yes," Historia scoffed slightly, reviewing the new act passed recently of restricted night attractions in the Union in her mind. "Is there any information presently on this building or when it was created?" "No," "Proceed with correction," Historia allowed, walking around to the other side of her desk and placing her hand up to her mouth, rubbing her bottom lip.</p><p><br/>"I should have paid attention to my colleagues more," she cursed, adding onto the post-it to ask about the topic later during her meeting. </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Historia looked down and lifted her leg when she felt a warm, fluffy weight around the limb, looking down to see Elliot. </p><p><br/>"Odd case, isn't it, my heart?" Historia asked, Elliot blinking at the human and purring in response. Historia's eyes dulled softly. "Much more quiet than that scrap metal," she commented, walking down the stairs to grab her jacket and sling it onto her body. She tipped her bowler hat over so it fell onto her straight, black hair. Her duffle bag dangled from her elbow, tucked into her arm that held an umbrella as well. Historia knelt to Elliot, pulling out a closed, gold pocketwatch from her coat's breast pocket. </p><p><br/>"I've left your toys out, and extra bowls for you to eat during my outing," she explained, flipping her pocketwatch open and checking the time. 12:56. She looked back up to Elliot. "Please don't tear my furniture," she joked, standing back up to her full height. "I'll be home as soon as possible," Historia promised, opening the door and closing it behind her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
The cafe door's bell gave an affectionate chime from Historia's pull on it, some of the waiters and baristas looked up slightly at the noise before diverting their attention back to their career tasks. Historia found her intended at a secluded table in the corner, located at the booths instead of the floating sets of chairs and tables in the middle of the bright building. Historia made her way through, and went next to the booth's table, tapping her umbrella's handle on the side of it, catching her colleague's attention. He smiled at her. "Moreau, have a seat, it's your meeting after all," he chipped, Historia nodding and setting her bag and umbrella next to her. She sat on the lowered, floating chair, which flew up to the table's level with her weight.</p><p><br/>
"Thank you, Mr. Mercer, I have quite a bit to talk about when it comes to the document you sent me," Historia started, Mercer being occupied with pouring them both tea from a steaming pot. He slid Historia's cup to her, ripping open a packet of sugar. As he turned it over into his cup, he replied, "Is that so?" Historia tapped her metal fingers against the cup, each tap made a high-pitched, slightly crunched sound. "Yes, my computer claimed that Statement 58 of my notes didn't quite match up with your rendition, it said a new casino was created in the Federation but I'm afraid I haven't heard of such news," Historia explained, and Mercer stared at her. "You haven't? Guess you really can't have your dedication and knack for social awareness," Mercer joked, Historia flushed from the small jab.</p><p><br/>
Mercer leaned forward to her, Historia picked up the cup and drank. "They're creating a new casino in Provectus," he confessed, and Historia looked up. "Yes, but what is so special about it?" Mercer rolled his eyes. "You know the Giacomians have a real gene for gambling, but their CEO is promising for it to be their biggest building yet, the most flashy, advanced, ready for clients," Mercer explained. Historia placed her cup down. "If that's the case, it's clearly not reported, the computer hasn't given me its address and no information has been submitted other than the fact that it exists," Historia said, Mercer stared into his cup and fixed his tie. "Yes, well.." "Isn't it required for the creation of new gambling facilities to be submitted so it can be archived? If it's so popular, this dilemma shouldn't be here," Historia ranted, and Mercer waited until it became silent.</p><p><br/>
"Yes, according to the GA Act, but you surely remember Provectus isn't nearly as regulated as our Union, although they do share MSBRs and common laws, Provectus isn't required to follow everything by the books as we do, "Mercer paused. "Would be a lot better if they did though, such beautiful skylines" he sighed.</p><p><br/>
Historia propped Mercer's head up, which was quickly falling off his arm onto the table. "Forgive me, but I don't quite get gambling," Mercer's head immediately lifted from the table, and Historia knew she had caught his full attention. "All the bluffing, pulling and pushing, the spinning..makes me more nauseous than anything, combined with all the liquor," she confessed, and Mercer's mouth fell. "You've never stepped foot into a casino, have you?! How could.." Mercer's eyes widened, and he looked down at the ground, covering his mouth with his hand before pulling it off. "Have you ever..ever even made a bet with friends before, maybe as a young girl?" Historia fought back her reaction to cringe, closing her eyes before opening them again. "No..I can't remember any betting," she smiled falsely. </p><p><br/>
Mercer shook a grin. "What would be a starter's first game?" Mercer took a breath, thinking quietly. "Baby's first gambling session.." he breathed. "Poker, blackjack, pool, the roulette wheel..the slot machine? Any of that ring a bell?" Historia shook her head. "I mean in interest, Moreau," Mercer added, and Historia stood idle. "Poker...I have heard of," Historia revealed, and Mercer tsked. "You, poker? Nah..can't imagine you at it," Mercer said.</p><p><br/>
"Otherwise, I have no real meaning entering a casino," Historia said, picking up her cup to put onto the plate and dropping the crumpled napkin into the cup. "No no no..that just won't do! You must come with me to the grand opening of the casino!" Mercer half-yelled and Historia looked around before letting out a sigh of relief at nobody staring at them. "If you aren't interested in gambling, you could just drink and meet the people there, although nobody truly goes to a casino without the intent of gettin' loaded," Mercer quipped. "If it'll soothe you," Historia gave up, not wanting to drain energy to pull Mercer away from a path he seemed to have dug out of faith. Mercer clapped his hands together. "Great! I'll pick you up tomorrow!" Historia suddenly froze as she got up. "..Tomorrow?" her teeth began to chatter. "With the best money to buy workers, you bet the building will be done in a snap," Mercer's fingers moved to simulate the sound he exclaimed. "We'll meet," Historia mumbled, and Mercer gave a happy hum in reply. He fixed his coat and shook her hand. "Have a good night of sleep, you'll need it for tomorrow," he winked, Historia bit into her cheek at the fact that he seemed hell-bent on reminding her of the event. Historia signed a digital pad the waiter brought over to her, watching in her peripheral as Mercer left, practically skipping out of the cafe.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the door closed behind her, Historia allowed her body to slump against the wood, dropping her umbrella onto a metal hook from the coat rack next to her. She ran a hand down her face, opening her eyes hazily to find Elliot staring at her. She placed her hat onto the top hook with her coat and turned back to the cat, crossing her arms and giving a long, dramatic whistle. "Gambling, the joys of life, right Elliot?" she asked curtly, Elliot giving a comforting, deep purr in response before padding away into the house.</p><p><br/>
Historia looked around the house, quickly peeking into every room to check for any scratches or messes, satisfied at none. She snuck upstairs, turning to the bathroom to take a sonic shower.<br/>
The waves pulsed down her body, Historia leaning against the wall and clutching her fist against her chest, creating and believing situations that may happen at the new building. Thinking of putting off her research for such old-school vices.</p><p><br/>
<em>1.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>2.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>3.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>4.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>5.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>6.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>7.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>8.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>9.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>10.</em>
</p><p><br/>
Historia let an interrupted exhale out, a thick strand of dark hair falling and laying on her forehead. She reached a hand over to finally complete her shower, taking a moment to breathe in and out before standing up shakily and stepping out, immediately going to the mirror and reaching into the cabinet.</p><p><br/>
She grabbed a silver pair of scissors, which reflected the lights placed above the mirror. Grasping strands of hair between two fingers and with a quick snip, the tufts fell off her body to move shoulder to collarbone.</p><p><br/>
Historia swept small strands off her shoulders quickly, placing the scissors back into the glass holder. Clothing herself, stepping over small, unpolluted patches on the floor to prevent hair sticking to her body. Hopping over the straight chunks, she quickly grabbed a broom and swept it into a pan, before throwing the waste away. Dragging her body to her bedroom, Historia opened the door to lay down, confessing to Elliot with a drained "I'm a cadaver, my heart," and as she laid on the mattress, staring out the window next to her bed at clouds shrouded in darkness, her mind only repeated with the ticking of a pocket watch -</p><p><br/>
<em>Just an hour.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>"You're well-dressed for a casino goer," Historia looked behind her, closing her watch at the sight of Mercer at her doorway. "Makes me feel rather underdressed," Mercer confessed, following Historia out. "You're just casual," Historia excused, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. </p><p><br/>"Having a house in the outskirts must be great for you, horrible for navigation and being punctual for me," Mercer laughed, Historia blinking in response. "Is that why you were late?" she asked, and Mercer's silence was her confirmation. </p><p><br/>As they got closer to the station, Mercer struck the pregnant silence with a "What are you planning to do at the casino?" Historia tipped her head, looking in his direction. "I'll take up drinking and conversation, as you brought up yesterday," Historia responded, Mercer, pouting. "Well...I suppose conversation couldn't be the worst," Historia shifted. "What do you mean by that?" Mercer's lips quirked slightly. "I'll tell you in the capsule," he promised cryptically, and Historia wondered if that sinking feeling in her stomach was regret.</p><p><br/>Standing around the clean platforms of the transportation station, robotic voices called over the crowds with times and alerting precautions, intermingling with the quick zipping and sliding of the capsules and glass. Mercer kept checking his personal pad for the time with Historia next to him silently praying for more time off-put.</p><p><br/>"There are more people here than usual,' Historia brought up, and Mercer lifted an eyebrow with a silent "Huh," Historia knew it was for the Giacomo Federation. </p><p><br/><em>"Capsule for 20:00!"</em> the voice rang out, and Historia was pulled up by an exasperated Mercer. "That's it! Let's go!" he rushed, pulling Historia to the capsule that pulled into and was sealed into a glass space. The doors opened to the capsule and they both went inside. </p><p><br/>"Hey, over here," Mercer corrected Historia's movements, pulling her into a compartment near the entrance with two parallel booth seats and a window between the seats. Under the window was also a metal counter and service tablet, which Historia used to synthesize two glasses of water.</p><p><br/>The capsule doors sealed shut, and they launched into space, Historia's head twisting to watch the blue energies of fast space dash by in the comfort of the compartment. "You've seen this before-" Historia interrupted him "...And it amazes me every time," she whispered. "What did you mean by earlier?" Mercer narrowed his eyes at her "Spell it out for me.." Mercer said Historia continued. "By the conversation thing, what did you mean by conversation not being the worst thing to do there?" "Oh! Well, there will be quite a lot of people there, to make up for the size of the building. People even think some celebrities will be there..perhaps the CEO as well. This night will probably be one of the most expensive in that building's lifetime," Mercer explained. Historia's mouth rounded in an "O".<br/>"Will doctors and lawyers be there as well? They seem needed," Historia said stiffly, Mercer's cheeks puffed as he drank his water, rubbing his nose with the inside of his wrist.</p><p><br/>The capsule pulled into a dim station, the platforms not brimming with people with most of the presence stepping up the dusty stairs. Historia and Mercer both lifted from the chairs, sliding open the compartment doors and leaving to the stairs. Historia's neck stretched to look at the city buildings dwarfing them. The inky black sky at the top where the clouds would linger faded into a dark, slate grey that fogged brick buildings.</p><p><br/>"We don't have simulated skies like this," Historia gasped, Mercer ignoring her euphoria. They walked down scratched, decrepit sidewalks, neon billboards floating above and lights flickered from fluorescent shop names and streetlights, illuminating the graffiti that melted onto dark bricks.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Suspicions confirmed that the two were in the heart of Libitina from the unsubtle gossiping of the crowd no doubt lined up for the casino's opening. Historia and Mercer took their space in the crowd. Mercer's body leaned out of the way, moving to support himself at full height on his toes to see the bodyguards or more of the building whilst Historia's eyes silently checked out the buildings around.</p><p>Historia noted from the distant sound of hovercars that they must have closed off the street in anticipation of the sheer amount of people coming to the large city in search of easy riches.<br/>Before she knew it, she was entering the building alone, stepping into it with her hands still in her pockets to look around inside. </p><p><br/>Ultimately, she was met with bright, flashing lights and seemingly every angle. They drowned out patrons at the bar, turning them into mere shadows of consumers, flashing bulbs of neon in arrays near the slot machines, the large chandelier dangling above - every light in Libitina bled for this show.</p><p><br/>Next, the sounds. Already, there was shouting over small talk, dinging of false rewards, the clinking of glasses, and steps overlaying steps on the newly waxed floors.</p><p><br/>Historia shook her head, knowing that Mercer had lost himself to the hypnotic spinning of the roulette wheels as she walked around the crowds, tipping her shoulders to pass people by easier.</p><p><br/>"Greetings,"</p><p><br/>Historia suddenly whipped around, finding in her sight to be a tall man clad in black. He wore a well-pressed suit and black coat, his head adorned with a dark top hat. Most striking of all was the white plague doctor mask that covered his face, with what Historia assumed to be a black balaclava under to prevent any other identifying factors. She noted his more foreign English accent, unlike those of the Libitinians.</p><p><br/>"Hello there," she chipped, and the man held a gloved hand out. "Would you care for a dance, as is the status quo for gatherings in this manner?" he asked slowly, and Historia slowly placed her hand into his grasp, which he closed around. She would put off Mercer's possible reaction to this man in such an establishment for later.</p><p><br/>The mysterious man guided her to a crowded area in the middle of the building, and as they began their dance, she interrupted the tense silence. "Who are you?" The man ignored her, continuing to go through smooth movements. Historia grasped into his arm, the claws digging into the thick layer of fabrics and she firmly planted her foot into the ground, stopping his routine. However, he did not remark. "I will ask again, who are you?" Historia forced with another pull of her implanted hand. "I had not expected such a reaction," he finally said, although muted. He gently wrapped around her wrist, pulling Historia out of his arm with unexpected strength. "Very well," he added, folding his hands in front of him allowing Historia's left arm to fall back to her side. "Dr.Delacroux, Ms. Moreau," he revealed, and Historia let a quick blink. "How did you get my name?" she rushed dryly. "I happened to have overheard your conversation with one Mr. Mercer," Delacroux explained. "You were close then," Historia quipped, making her way off the dance floor with the doctor close on her heels, frankly being sick of the movements and small talk.</p><p><br/>Historia stopped, turning around to see his figure stop as well just a few feet away from her, his posture upright and stiff. "I suppose we'll meet again," she inquired, and Delacroux retorted with a shake of his head. "The building is undoubtedly large, and we are but mere strangers," with that, Historia watched as he became one with the environment. </p><p><br/>Historia's eyes drew to the spot where he once stood, going to stride there.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>I can still catch up to him, he's not from here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Historia pushed herself through a living maze, that slowly stewed in lost money and feelings as the night became older. Historia felt her path had been mainly nonsense, but soothed herself right when she found a quieter, less-occupied corner of the building. If a deity had existed, it guided her out of harm's way quick enough so she was nothing but a bystander to cheering crowds and exposing famous names who cursed themselves to a never-ending day.</p><p><br/>Slouching on a pillar, she took deep breaths.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>"This place reeks of a laundering scheme,"</em>
</p><p><br/>A female voice accused in a breathy whisper.</p><p><br/>Historia stopped her breaths, pausing them with an expanded chest to hear.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>"Cliché, however, it is a rather solid accusation,"</em>
</p><p><br/>Historia pursed her lips, it was the familiar voice from ago.</p><p><br/>"<em>Although I'm wary of room for doubt of course..she should have enough clean money to last her many lifetimes fitted to a god...a spoiled inheritance, maybe?"</em> The female voice questioned.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>"Discussion of such affairs will be reserved for later,"</em>
</p><p><br/>Delacroux's voice endeavored.</p><p><br/>Historia heard shuffling noises and quickly slid to hide her body behind the pillar. She pulled out her pocket watch, flipping it open and setting the mirror that paralleled the clock over her shoulder, seeing Dr. Delacroux's back and the woman. The woman was quite tall, a few inches shorter than the doctor (Historia estimated to be around two inches), with long, dark brunette hair and broad shoulders. </p><p><br/>"That's you, Gretchen, always staying a step ahead," The woman chuckled.</p><p><br/>"Dr. Delacroux, please," Gretchen corrected, following the woman away.</p><p><br/>Historia put her watch away, flattening out curves in her coat whilst she looked around the room for the exit. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>This building is too big for just one exit at the front.</em>
</p><p><br/>Was it true or just an excuse to avoid the hype?</p><p><br/>Historia walked over to a more open area of the building, which she assumed was the East wing, taking note of the rounds of square windows built higher up in the architecture, leading up to a glass dome roof.</p><p><br/>Once she finally found a group of glass doors, she pushed them open, first feeling the wet pin-pricks of rain. </p><p><br/>Rain, but no clouds.</p><p><br/>What a strange city.</p><p><br/>Historia walked down the city, allowing the drops to patter against the top of her hat, determined to find her way back to the capsule station, but...<br/>even with no drinks down, her movements were, odd; sluggish, and slow.</p><p><br/>No presence plagued the streets, so Historia took the opportunity to go off-course, stopping at an alleyway between two buildings, not walking too deep, pinching and rubbing the bridge of her nose.<br/>The bridge of her nose was suddenly scratched when she saw through her haze the shiny barrel of a gun.</p><p><br/>She jumped, holding a hand over her face as the female voice from before demanded "Both hands up!"</p><p><br/>Historia held them in view, although her elbows pointed to the ground, her arms felt too worn.</p><p><br/>The woman looked over to Gretchen, unsure. "She overheard us, I know she did,"</p><p><br/>"No witnesses, Ms. Dallaway," Gretchen reminded her, and the woman returned her attention to Historia. "Come here now," she commanded, wrapping an arm around Historia's own and taking her down the street with them. The woman put her gun back into a shoulder holster hidden by her coat.</p><p><br/>Historia basked in the unbroken silence, but breathed too quickly, trying to hide her hiccups that caused her chest to jump up and down, pressing against her throat.</p><p><br/>Gretchen simply said "Breathe," to her, Historia looking at him with widened eyes.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The light of their capsule compartment riding back to Xesbvecistan seemed hotter than the capsule riding from the planet, and it was unsure if it was the quality of Giacomoan capsules or the similarly hot dread pooling in her stomach.</p><p><br/>"You were right, Delacroux, she has the most particular eyes," Ms. Dallaway remarked, Historia looked down at her hands, knowing she was referring to her black scleras with pin white irises.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>It was an accident.</em>
</p><p><br/>"She is silent," Gretchen pointed out, and Ms. Dallaway nodded in agreement, synthesizing two glasses of water and a cup of steaming tea for her companion, a sign of diplomacy.</p><p><br/>"I..apologize for the situation we're in, Moreau," Ms. Dallaway started. "However, it's..necessary for the situation we're in, we found you eavesdropping and, well, we couldn't just let you overhear and possibly interfere," she explained, and Historia held back a scoff. "What's stopping me from coming to the police, hostage-taking isn't legal," Historia brought up. "Eavesdropping ain't the epitome of morality either, and what's stopping you is the fact that I'm a detective," Ms. Dallaway revealed, pulling out her badge and showing it to Historia, shining in the light.</p><p><br/>"You're from Monroe, aren't you?"Historia asked, unfolding her arms. "Even detectives from the American-English districts of Provectus don't speak as you do," Historia justified. Ms. Dallaway nodded. "We have the right one, Delacroux," Ms. Dallaway grinned.</p><p><br/>"What am I needed for anyway? There's not much I can help you with," Historia questioned. Ms. Dallaway sighed. "If we give each other our full names, I will explain the situation," Ms. Dallaway offered, Gretchen looking around the small capsule compartment, which Historia believed was for recording devices.</p><p><br/>"Historia Moreau," Historia offered, and Ms. Dallaway shook her hand quickly. 'Theodora Dallaway myself," Theodora allowed her hand to fall. "You'd be of much help, Historia. Your published books on Earthian history contained small details I have not expected, including on the geography and culture," she commended. "It's just my job," Historia rationalized.</p><p><br/>"Yes, you do it very well. Anyway, my intention in going to the establishment is my investigation on TellTake Fortune Incorporated, I have reason to suspect the CEO's got a laundering scheme going on from a contaminated inheritance, and that she might be in junction with another big business in the show industry," Theodora unmasked. "In looking for evidence, we found you at the establishment, and it was quite suspicious that a historian such as yourself would be there, even with an invitation."</p><p><br/>Historia stared. "But..still, how would I help in the investigation?" "Your works heavily resemble muckraking efforts of the Progressive Era, this style of writing combined with Ms. Dallaway's findings in her investigations and your historical connections and details would be most becoming of an expose," Gretchen jumped in.</p><p><br/>Historia swallowed, taking the answer in. They all took a break for their refreshments, and Historia had to wonder "May I see the details of these investigations?" Theodora looked to Gretchen, her intense eyes flaring into the lenses of his mask, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Historia. I do have the information," Theodora capitalized this by holding up a data crystal she took out of her pocket. "..But I have no way to show this information to you at the moment, and I will not take chances with the service tablet," "It is simply wise," Gretchen added.</p><p><br/>Historia curled up into the seats, seeing in her clouded vision Elliot and home.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>"Historia?"</p><p><br/>Historia's head lifted to see Theodora standing up from her seat, approaching her.</p><p><br/>"We're here,"</p><p><br/>She said, Historia forced her body up, rolling her head to correct aches in her neck and back, which cracked with a sharp pop.</p><p><br/>The three left the capsule, only two more strangers stepped out of it and left up the ascending of stairs, the once shining lights dimmed thoughtful with the time of night.</p><p><br/>Theodora checked her watch, which read 01:35. "Ms. Moreau, will you estimate the length of time it will take to escort us to your residence?" Gretchen inquired, Historia giving a small yawn. "It'll take at least an hour," she responded. "We can make it," Theodora claimed as she followed Historia, stopping when Historia took a turn. "Hey, where are you going?" Historia turned. "We'll just take a booth home, I'll collapse otherwise," Historia stated, waiting for the two to catch up as Gretchen vaguely shook his head.</p><p><br/>The booth stood tall - red and chipped from years of use, but no paint stained it like the buildings in Provectus Terram. Gretchen tugged the door open, using his other arm to 'offer' the space inside the booth, pointing inside. When Theodora and Historia entered, he did as well, the door slamming close behind them. </p><p><br/>Historia typed her address into the metal receiver on the wall, occasionally shifting her eyes to observe Theodora and Gretchen's movements - Theodora rocked herself back and forth, sometimes staring at the movement of Historia's fingers that caused the clicking of the keys before breaking contact, Gretchen just standing there with his arms clasped behind his back. Frowning, she clicked "accept" on the keyboard, pulling her arm away as the intense buzzing and light blue particles began to appear.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They reappeared in front of the house, Theodora rubbing her eyes from the quick brightness and hesitantly pulling away to allow her eyes to set in, Historia occupied with unlocking her door and getting it open. "How cozy," Theodora smiled, Historia humming in agreement. </p><p><br/>Elliot met the three when they went in, Elliot staring at Gretchen (who stared back) before rubbing against Theodora's legs. "How affectionate," she cooed, lowering herself to rub behind Elliot's ears. "I know," Historia acknowledged absent-mindedly. </p><p><br/>Permitting them to hang up their coats, Historia entered her study, sitting into her chair. Her mind battled between working or falling asleep, Historia's eyes winking between closed and opened, raising her head when she remembered she still had guests.</p><p><br/><em>Surprise guests.</em> Historia reminded herself, ignoring the bitter scent of coffee entering the room. </p><p><br/>Historia clasped her hands together on the desk, watching the objects on the wooden table silently. It mainly contained her stacked books, her work computer, and the case for her nose-perched glasses.</p><p><br/>Rubbing a dust-caked framed with the cloth of her sleeve, it revealed a photograph - a dark-haired woman and man holding a short child with large, curious green eyes.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>A small remnant of Earth - artifice be damned.</em>
</p><p><br/>Pulling away from the photograph, she projected "Come in!" at the firm knocks on her study door, opening to reveal Gretchen.</p><p><br/>"Hello, Dr. Delacroux," she sighed, fixing her posture but her head still tilted forward. "Rest," Gretchen ordered, Historia looking up at him. "..What?" "Rest," he repeated. "We will review the evidence once you awake," he assured. "And you?" Gretchen turned his head away from her, Historia taking view of the long beak. "Ms. Dallaway and I will take advantage of your quarters should you allow it," Historia got up, pushing her chair back in and curling the ends of her lips up. "You may, good night, Dr. Delacroux," she wished him, walking past him to retire in the night.</p><p><br/>Gretchen walked back into the kitchen, meeting Theodora at the doorway, drinking out of a mug, and sitting at the far end of the table to face him. "Ms. Moreau has allowed our stay here," he informed her, Theodora pulling the white cup away from her lips. "Good," she placed it down. "I do not see her fit for our situation," he confessed. "..Delacroux.." "Yes?"</p><p><br/>"Come here," she signaled him over with her index finger and showed him a golden object in the crook of her other palm. "Clarify," Gretchen demanded, and Theodora flipped it open. "Do you believe it's a coincidence that her writing just so happens to be so detailed?" Theodora raised an eyebrow, and Gretchen stayed silent. "Ms. Moreau is an example of Xesbvecistani advancement compared to the Earthians," he replied.</p><p><br/>Theodora shook her head. "True, but what if she just so happened to be an Earthian?" "Most of Xesbvecistan's population consists of the offspring of Earth refugees," he prompted. "No..first generation," Theodora got up, making her way into the hallway and entering Historia's study. She approached the desk, and picked up the frame, handing it to Gretchen.</p><p><br/>"A frame," "Suspicious enough already, people here usually keep holographs or files on their computers or data crystals," "Yes, that is a true statement, however, it just proves Ms. Moreau is old-fashioned, not a first-generation Earthian," Theodora huffed. "The child in the picture looks just like her, similar facial structure and everything, same nose, hair color and length, the eyes are just different and this could be due to her travel here," Theodora analyzed, Gretchen, looking back at the image. "The incident in question happened 103 years ago, are you theorizing immortality?" "YES! This is where the watch comes into play..it's obviously of an older model, but it would have needed fixing time to time despite Historia always having it with her, its stronger build can be explained by a power it inhabits," Theodora started. "Most of our archives on Earth history have been incomplete before the crisis, and it has only been revealed once Historia published her research,"</p><p><br/>Gretchen's head went up. "Ms. Moreau has published numerous books on Earthian history, it is not limited to the time of the crisis," Theodora's mouth started a grin. "You are implying time travel," Gretchen finally stated. "Yes, and we can use this for our investigation, we can see what exactly happened with that corp."</p><p><br/>"That is logical," Gretchen agreed, handing the frame back to Theodora, who placed it back onto its spot on the desk. "Now.." Theodora trailed off, looking at Gretchen. He simply tipped his head to the side. "Yes?" "Will you please sleep?" she asked, stepping towards him. "You require rest more than I do," Theodora ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, sure, but so do you," "I am used to it, perhaps tomorrow," Gretchen promised. Theodora laid down on the futon placed against the wall between two bookshelves, tucking a small throw pillow under her head for support before drifting.<br/>Gretchen walked down the hallway to the coat hanger, tucking long, adept fingers into Theodora's coat pocket to pull out a clear data crystal. He looked down at it, observing it as he turned the object around. He walked back to the study, walking around the desk and inserting the data crystal into a slot in the turned-off computer. Rubbing his gloved hands, he went back to another futon facing the desk, sitting down at the corner to await the new dawn.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Historia tied her hair back, securing her monocle in place and getting up to leave her room, stepping down the stairway. "Are you two still there?" Historia skipped the last step, quickly turning to the limiting sight of the study from at the end of the hallway, the door left open. Theodora was in the kitchen with Elliot, Gretchen not in sight. "Yep! I've fed the cat, if you don't mind," Theodora beamed, Historia offering a smile. "Elliot," she said, Theodora looked back down at the cat. Historia entered the study, seeing Gretchen on a futon. "Good morning," she said, walking to her desk and pulling a drawer open. "New day," Gretchen replied, standing up and fixing his tie. Historia slipped a hand into the space, rummaging for her watch...</p><p><br/>which wasn't there.</p><p><br/>Historia squeezed her eyes shut, squeezing her fist closed, knowing the possibility of scratching objects there. She pulled her hand out, raising her leg and using her knee to close the drawer silently. "Where is my watch, where is it?" Historia demanded, Theodora immediately rushing into the room. "Oh, sorry! I was curious about it," she confessed, pulling it out of her pocket and tossing it to Historia, who caught it and clasped it close to her body. "Don't...Don't do that,' she scowled, flipping it open to check potential damage alongside the time before letting an exhale through her nose in relief, closing it, and placing it on her desk.</p><p><br/>Historia stepped towards the futon, more so dragging herself, still in shock and she sat down. </p><p><br/>"Will we go over with the evidence?" Historia clarified, Theodora's interest piqued as she went to leave the room to grab her data crystal, Gretchen grabbing her arm. "I have placed it into the reader earlier," he said, Theodora snaking her arm out of his grasp. "Great," Theodora acknowledged, walking to Historia's computer and pausing. "Uh, Historia?" "What?" she snapped. "Log into your computer for us," Theodora asked, Historia getting up and pressing her thumb onto the reader, which scanned and accepted the information. Historia looked back up at Theodora, before going to sit back down.<br/>Theodora clicked on the prompt to open the information the data crystal contained, and a hologram popped up, projecting in the room to show a presentation. Historia raised an eyebrow at the media, Theodora pointing a finger up. "I also have a document that contains more detail, but a visual medium is usually more popular," Theodora said before Historia remarked on the fashion the information was produced in. The lights of the room decreased from Gretchen pulling the curtains closed.</p><p><br/>Theodora grunted, clearing her throat to speak. The slide entered phase one, and the portrait of an older woman showed on the screen, which Theodora pointed at. "Constantine Telltale, overall a slimy woman-" "Ms. Dallaway!" Gretchen interrupted Theodora, glaring at him under her fedora. "What? It's the truth..fine, Delacroux," she shook her head. "Constantine Telltale, daughter of Ezekiel and Mira Telltale, 47 years old," Theodora introduced. "She inherited TellTake Fortune Inc. at around 25 years old from the late Ezekiel Telltale, or so most people believe..in reality, financial records show that Mira took over most of the financial responsibilities of the company under her Ezekiel's name, just around the time Telltale was born," Theodora continued. "Many of my colleagues suspect that Ezekiel intentionally introduced illegal money into the company to prevent Mira or Telltale from going unchecked or obtaining his company once he eventually died," Theodora concluded, Historia perking up with "Eventually?"</p><p><br/>"Ezekiel Telltale, as victimized as he sounds in the story, had many enemies," Theodora cleared up. "It's a bit coincidental that Ezekiel gave Mira TellTake Fortune just as Telltale happened to be born," Historia brought up, Theodora's face suddenly becomes soft with solemn and glancing to Gretchen before schooling her expression.</p><p><br/>"Mira died from cancer, allowing Telltale complete control of the corp, and Telltale moved most of the company's activity to Provectus," "A sound analysis allows for the ability to argue the nature of Mira Telltale going untreated by theorizing a potential shift in responsibility from her to her daughter, which would have nullified criminal activity done by Mira Telltale," Gretchen stated. </p><p><br/>"Very sound, Delacroux," Theodora taunted as the presentation clicked to phase two. "A few years into Telltale's regime of the company, she began taking another person under her wing, we cannot come out with the name yet, however, to be most charitable, all evidence points to her accessory being the child of a politician," Historia wasn't shocked at the revelation. "Such as?" Theodora snapped her fingers once. "The person in question has been using their influence to get legislators to pass increasingly relaxed laws in favor of their monopoly in the Giacomo Federation," Gretchen jumped in. "And he's not much dignified in his business either...freak show owner," Theodora mouthed, furrowing her thick brows, causing her experienced face to scrunch up in disgust. 'They still have them?" Historia got up from her slumped position on the futon, propping her body up with her hands. "Leave it to Giacomoians to be tasteful," Theodora snarked. "No need for extended vulgarities," Gretchen rebutted, lifting a hand in protest.</p><p><br/>"In general, taking this person under her wing was just another investment," Theodora went on. "The freak-show business there, as unethical as it is, makes money - and that person is basically indebted to Telltale for helping them with their wealth, so Telltale could ask for profit or a part of the company on a whim, or if her corporation suddenly failed, and she would win."</p><p><br/>"So wait..before we continue to phase three..how would Ezekiel quote on quote.."dirty" the inheritance?" Historia asked. "Any of the ways to get the money that's outlawed by the Enterprise Addendum, connected to the Bridge Pact-" "Which both The Union of Xesbvecistan and The Giacomo Federation signed," Gretchen added. "Yes yes, I know, it's my job," Historia lectured, causing Theodora to chuckle. "Our financial records on the company before Telltale's rule show transactions with unknown accounts, which could be connected to the Mafia," Historia stood up. "Makes sense..get yourself accommodated with powerful groups that happen to be in the area of your work...you get their money and loyalty as well, they'd be able to take out any forms of competition if needed," "That which exists, TellTake Fortune Incorporated has monopolized its service, these forms of competition are minimal, if not nonexistent," Gretchen flatly connected.</p><p><br/>"So, if the money the company is built on is primarily faulty, and Telltale puts up more unregulated casinos as she takes out smaller competitors, it's all like...dominoes, isn't it? She went quite bold, putting up her largest project yet with no enforcement dealing with it," Historia discussed. "It's argued she extended quite a lot of money to keep the project secret," Theodora said quietly. "And nobody has pointed it out?" Theodora burst out in a sour laugh. "HAH! As if! It took me to solve most of their particularly bad cases, I'm surprised I wasn't recognized instantly at the casino, next time another damned Giacomoian comes up to me, I'll match them with the revelation that I'm the reason their streets are safe-" "Ms. Dallaway, please keep your pride in check," Gretchen stopped. "Please, I'll keep it in check when they hire their own detectives,' Theodora argued back, pulling out a cigar from her pocket to cut and light it.</p><p><br/>Historia stretched, raising her arms above her head by her intertwined fingers and shifting them, rising onto her toes. Correcting the display, she checked the time unusually by peeking through a thick curtain, seeing a bright lilac, nearly cloudless sky transition into a monotone scape. "You two might want to head out soon, It might rain and I can't keep you two here forever," Historia mentioned, Theodora nodding and Gretchen giving a "Very well," in reply. Gretchen went down the hallway to fetch his coat, Theodora went by to Historia's computer to retrieve the data crystal, tossing it in the air teasingly and placing it back into her pocket. "It was very fun discussing the details, and I hope with your addition we'll make progress," Theodora murmured, looking back to the hallway to check for the man's presence and leaning down to Historia's ear. "Sorry for the nature of our first meeting, won't be repeated," she joked, standing back up to full height and following Historia's lead to the door. Gretchen had his coat on but also supported himself with a proud walking cane.</p><p><br/>Theodora stepped outside, a dark cloud of smoke from her cigar following her when Historia closed the distance between her and Gretchen. "Oh! I haven't noticed your walking cane," Historia pointed out. "The Giacomoians may only suspend their disbelief for so long," Gretchen explained, his fingers taking the brim of his top hat and lowering it down diplomatically. "My greatest gratitude for your hosting us, Ms. Moreau," Gretchen thanked, placing the top hat back onto his head. "We will meet again," Gretchen turned, stepping out with a waiting Theodora, steps synchronized with the light but strict taps of the walking cane.</p><p><br/>Historia shut the door.</p><p><br/>She made her way to the kitchen, making herself and Elliot food before she would return to work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>the big bads come along in this chapter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Money from a casino could buy a person many things, but money from owning a casino would buy your way into a banquet.</p><p><br/>There were more servers than there were people who needed to be served, plainly formal populations walking around the large dining area, some leaning into the people they owed to whisper questions all too nice off the tongue with the occasional snaked hand or arm around the waist or shoulders.</p><p><br/>"Another bottle?" One server suggested, leaning over Telltale's pointy shoulder, hands weighted down by a vibrant green bottle. Telltale held her hand out. "Donate the cork as well," Telltale said dejectedly, poking the tall man next to her with her empty, fogged glass. The servant nodded, walking over to locate the cork opener.</p><p><br/>The tall man stood up, holding up his half-filled (or half-empty?) glass. "We're gathered here today to celebrate the success of our dear Constantine's most recent project, and how popular it became just a mere month into its creation. It was a sacrifice many people would not jump towards, and thus its great success is most commendable, congratulations, Telltale, and enjoy your fortune," The man gave, sitting down to clink his glass against Telltale's as the rest of the table clapped.</p><p><br/> "Oh congratulations, ol' Telltale, you really are an inspiration to the rest of us," a man said between the sniffles of his wife next to him. "Dear, you'll ruin the moment," the man went off-topic to hand his wife a handkerchief. "So, Telltale, why'd you do it?" Telltale raised an eyebrow. "Why I did it? Why not how?" she joked, the rest of the table murmured combined with holier laughter. "It wasn't a complete success either, after all, I had to extend all that money just to get the damn thing built," Telltale ranted.</p><p><br/> "Surely, you'll make it all back, Telltale. Now, where's Abbott?" the man asked, Telltale tried to hold him back with a "William-" but another woman across the table responded with "He waltzed into the kitchen a few minutes ago, a queer thing he is," William furrowed his eyebrows. "Like a pauper? I must correct him," William sighed, dragging his chair back again and walking to the kitchen. Telltale pinched the bridge of her nose whilst her glass was being filled. "He'll be the death of me," she lamented.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Abbott looked inside the synthesizers, watching shiny meat inside the metal compartments glisten under the artificial heat produced by the machines, ignoring the rest of them producing the courses for later appetites as well. He swiftly turned around to meet William and his sharp-toothed grin.</p><p><br/> "Mr. Abbott, pleasure tonight, isn't it?" William chirped with hollow eyes. Abbott gulped silently. "Yes, Mr. Ainsworth," Abbott replied, an eye shifted back to the turkey being created by the synthesizer. "Won't you come back to the banquet with us? Celebrations have only begun," William pointed out, going to grab Abbott's arm, which he put behind his back. "...Yes, however, I would just like to see the progress of the food first of all," Abbott confessed, William pausing his grip and raising both eyebrows. "Impatient? Or just laborious yourself?" William sneered, allowing his arm to lower. "You find it insulting when I season my food..thus I'll track the progress myself," he explained. "Irrational, just come back to the dining room before Mr. Jackel's wife starts crying again," he scorned, walking back into the dining room with Abbott stuttering and following close behind.</p><p><br/>"Mr. Ainsworth, there you are," another woman in a short, powdered wig said to him, William smirking as she slipped an arm into his grip. "You must tell me about your shows, I hear they're to die for!" the woman exclaimed, William, snickering along with her while escorting her back to her seat. "Exceptionals in their natural habitat," William spoke vaguely, turning the woman to his gaze before she sat down, causing her to bat long, thick lashes at him. "Tell me more about them," "You'll have to see the show to truly understand the wonders of it," he teased, causing her to pout. "Then we could arrange something, I'm sure," she slurred back, William's lids fell at the prospect. "Yes, we could..." he held the hand at her side, rubbing her cheek with his thumb before pulling away and going back to sit down.</p><p><br/>Telltale looked at William. "Another woman in the bag?" she asked over the chattering of metal plates, silverware, and glasses from food being served and handed out. William gave an open-mouth smile, raising a glass lowly to somebody Telltale didn't bother to keep track of from the other side of the table and then lowering his arm to look at her. "I still have it, Constantine, my last wife didn't leave me with nothing," he replied haughtily, Telltale taking a bite out of her food. "Ms. Eloise was fine," she judged casually, William rolling his eyes. </p><p><br/>"At surface. Wear her ring and you'll see how it is for yourself," he shot, occupying himself with his food.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"A very trained dancer you are, Ms. Telltale, my compliments!" A man smiled at him, Telltale pulling away from him. "You've only stepped on my toes twice," Telltale replied sarcastically, looking down to check any damage to her shoes before her eyes slipped up automatically. "My apologies," the man replied, Telltale turning onto her side to walk away. "Of course," she put off, striding outside the well-lit ballroom and dodging the other dancing pairs to leave the man standing there.</p><p><br/>Allowing her arms to swing slightly with each step, she looked around the large manor as she went her way down the hallway, feeling the red carpet under her short, thick heels whilst admiring the many candles and manually painted canvases hung up high on the walls.</p><p><br/>As the lights became darker, Telltale stepped into the garden, shrouded by the darkness of the night and rushing of water from the fountains surrounded by vibrant, fertile flowers. Telltale stepped deeper into the heart of the garden, running fingers on the soft, bouncy petals.</p><p><br/>"Constantine," Willaim called out, Telltale turned to see him, his silhouette outlined by the lights behind him. Even though the darkness, not remedied by the lack of moonlight, she could see that he brought his previous glass of wine with him.</p><p><br/>"Must you be such a drunkard?" she swore, William walking slowly to join her side. "I'm neither drunk nor tipsy," he stated, matter-of-fact as they made their way through the garden, fenced in by tall hedges.</p><p><br/>"At least you remain responsible," She claimed, William reacting with a clarified "More like I can hold my drinks..." Telltale directed towards him, stopping in their tracks. "Is there anything we must go over before I leave?" she forced, straightening her suit's lapels and folding her arms behind her back. "So soon?" William asked, looking around rapidly with what Telltale believed was almost...rare distress, like a deer in the headlights, before he dragged her deeper into the garden. "Telltale," he started. "This is critical, however, this strictly remains between us," he growled. Telltale nodded in understanding. "Your company may be targeted, and by association, my own," he spat. </p><p><br/>"How? We remain here on top, Ainsworth," Telltale straightened, her face serious in stone. "I directed somebody who would eavesdrop for u-" "You..hired somebody to listen in on the activities of my clientele?!" Telltale scowled loudly, William hushing her. "Yes, to be most blunt, the person overheard two people talking of some petty investigation against us, it's been started when you took over the company and the detective was deep into her career," he explained, handing Telltale the wine glass, expecting her to take a sip to mediate the sudden feelings on the situation, instead causing her to squeeze her hand and shatter the glass, which coated her hand in the crimson liquid. </p><p><br/>"William, why didn't you tell me sooner," she growled gravely, William seeing the edges of a throbbing vein on her forehead, even under her silver hair. The air around them became thinner and cloudy with Telltale's hyperventilating.</p><p><br/>"I have my own business to run, and so do you. The extent of which "evidence" was produced is unknown," Telltale lifted a finger to massage her vein. "William, if I go down, so do you. You'd be nothing without me," she countered aggressively. She narrowed her eyes. "Do you know how Earthians treated cancer, William?" William tilted his head. Telltale licked her hand, coated in the half-dry wine. "They destroyed it, aggressively. They would tear anything in its path, the immune system even, to get rid of its tumors," she drawled on.</p><p><br/>"Yes, so you're proposing...?"Telltale chuckled darkly. "You have much to learn, William," she started. "Simple, I'll have to hire a spy for us, they'll follow this supposed person, and when the time becomes right, they will then strike," she said simply as if she were talking about the weather. "Absolutely brutal," William murmured, a grin apparent in his voice alone.</p><p><br/>"Telltale, do you plan on cutting back on the company for the hire or law money?" William proposed Telltale nodded. "If this is revealed, putting workers off will just seem more suspicious, so we'll have to do it now to save us the PR trouble," she answered.</p><p><br/>William opened his mouth but slammed it shut when he heard a small "William?", turning to see the woman from earlier with a hand on the doorway, peeking at them. William tucked a curly strand behind his ear. "There you remain, my muse, how long have you been there?" he asked, stepping towards her and putting a firm hand on her shoulders. "Just now," she sighed, leaning into his touch. "Well, shall I escort you now?" the woman's eyes twinkled. "Please," she giggled, allowing William to hook his arm into hers and stepping back into the bright.<br/>Telltale cracked her knuckles, her eyes still staring at the display. </p><p><br/>She returned to the dining room, sitting back into her chair, slumped. It was mainly empty, except for a few souls still in their seats. She suspected the others had lost themselves into the various hallways and rooms for entertainment elsewhere.</p><p><br/>"Telltale? You look absolutely dead," Mr. Jackel's wife inquired, Mr. Jackel nodding. "Perhaps it's the splendid banquet," she lied, attempting a genuine smile to the couple. Mrs. Jackel lit up at the compliment.</p><p><br/>"Say, do you happen to have any more bottles to spare?" Telltale asked, holding up the abandoned bottle of wine on the table.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Eyes flickered in a haze, were the bottles empty or was the desk empty of bottles? She saw only shadows and the glowing screen of her personal pad.</p><p><br/>The intense orange flame had shown in detail the creases under her eyes, engraved.</p><p><br/>They stretched with a blink as the waiting dial drowned out anything else, and she was met with a thick "Hello?"</p><p><br/><em>"I have a job for you,"</em> Telltale pierced the flame dead between her wet fingers. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Monroe was a petite district in Xesbvecistan, but the people were loud, quite comfortable. Historia attributed this to the vast amount of Americans who came here during the Earthian Refugee Crisis - a proud people always. </p><p><br/>
The many teleportation booths did the job well, much better than the too-fast capsules, but navigation still had to be done through the streets and cities nevertheless.<br/>
Historia grasped onto her duffle bag, which had her umbrella in it. Was the bag too small at face? Yes, but the umbrella slipped in with ease and Historia would fish it out at will with the same strength. The elevator's lights flashed with every floor it passed, and Historia focused on it to ignore the little girl staring at her, not saying a word to pierce the elevator's secrecy.<br/>
She stepped onto the 7th floor, the noise of her boots muted by the carpet underneath. Making a turn right, she reached the very end of the hallway, remembering Theodora told her the name of the apartment door. The unneeded confirmation came with the arguing of two different voices on the other side of the door.</p><p><br/>
Historia shook her head, knocking on the door (which became louder than she expected, what not with metal against the wood) which clicked open before her hand would fall back in place, revealing a disheveled Theodora.</p><p><br/>
"We've been arguin' hours, you were the last hope for the neighbors to not file a noise complaint," Theodora described, moving to the side to allow Historia in. </p><p><br/>
Theodora's apartment was modest, but not small, separated into different rooms and hallways with the busy living room at the heart of it. Many of Theodora's work pads stacked on top of each other parallel to her computer, one throw pillow stuffed into the corner of an l-shaped couch that lined the room. The worn binders opened against the warm windows.</p><p><br/>
"Hello, Doctor. I expected you to come later," Historia pulled away from the analysis of Theodora's living room, Gretchen dusting off the top of a shelf and mumbling "Nonsense," in response. Theodora crossed her arms but went to her desk anyway.</p><p><br/>
"You've been busy," Historia noted, stepping forward to the desk where Theodora kept typing on the computer, Theodora nodding. "It's not helped by Delacroux stressing out about my living space," she snarked, Gretchen turned around to stop cleaning. "A cleaner living situation allows for increased efficiency in work and for that, I'm thankful you did not get a house," he responded, putting the duster down to go into another room. Theodora leaned into her chair, placing her hands on her stomach and throwing her legs up on the desk. She mouthed 'clean freak' to Historia.</p><p><br/>
Historia placed down a crystal onto Theodora's desk at her feet, Theodora leaning back up to take it between her fingers. "Is this it?" Historia twirled her pinky finger. "Yes, it's all the information requested. Including a timeline of all labor disputes back in the Earthian United States," Historia explained. "That's my girl," Theodora complimented, turning her chair to put the data crystal into her computer and read the documents.</p><p><br/>
Historia passed around Theodora's work area, looking at the shelves against the right wall which showed the collection of Earthian police officer hats throughout many years, Historia looking closer at the hats for the details of the craft. The antiques seemed legitimate.</p><p><br/>
"You show quite a collection," Historia commented, picking up a hat to flip over. "Put...put that back!" Theodora ushered with the waving of her hand, Historia apologized and placed it back onto where it was. "Yes, it seemed rather decorative, but interesting anyway," Theodora justified, picking up a pad from her left side and scrolling through it.</p><p><br/>
"Ms. Dallaway, where is your mop located?" Gretchen called out from inside the house, Theodora's eyes widened. "NO, Delacroux, NO," she rejected. Gretchen came back into the living room. "I will accept it for now," he seemed rather terse as he went to take a seat on the couch.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Meticulous work, Ms. Moreau," Gretchen complimented, leaning over Theodora's shoulder to scroll through the data of Historia's crystal as Historia clasped her hands behind him. "Thank you," she answered meekly.</p><p><br/>
Theodora logged out, standing up and pulling out an envelope. "An envelope, Ms. Dallaway?" Gretchen inquired. "You two both have a copy of the contents of my first data crystal, right?" Gretchen and Historia both agreed. "Good, I have my own copy but I have to send this one to my precinct," Theodora explained. "It has to be a physical copy so that the files inside don't magically get 'corrupted'," Theodora added. "Why the envelope?" "It's suspicious enough to already be mailing a data crystal, might as well keep this hidden, you know who we're dealing with, besides, most antiques or counterfeits come in envelopes, so it won't be too out of the ordinary, it'll just be seen as vintage."</p><p><br/>
"Did you wrap the data crystal?"</p><p><br/>
"Yes,"</p><p><br/>
Theodora placed it in her pocket. "We'll go now, then, save us the trouble of tomorrow's traffic," "The teleportation booths with remain functional tomorrow, are you stating we're using a different mode of transportation?" Gretchen said. "Yep, and with your favorite person!" she grinned. "You did not," Gretchen refused. "Yes, I did, and more than happy to help us. Who knows? Maybe you two will finally get along!" it got wider. "Excuse me, but who are you talking about?" Historia interrupted. "Oh, just my friend, Jet. He'll be takin' us to the post, he's a lovely pilot," Theodora replied. "To add on, an annoyance," Gretchen said briefly. "He's bluffing," Theodora pointed to Gretchen with her thumb, lying.</p><p><br/>
The three went down the same elevator, waiting outside where trees swayed gently in the tender wind, Theodora waved at the various people walking by, who smiled back. </p><p><br/>
"You seem popular here," Historia brought up, Theodora averted her attention to her. "Yep, they know me well," she waved her hand again while still looking at Historia. Historia leaned forward to check on Gretchen, his beak pointed up at the fruitful branches, assuming he was looking at the trees or the sky. She's at a loss, no person not out of it would park in front of an apartment, and Gretchen would know this.</p><p><br/>
Theodora gets up, Historia and Gretchen's movements in sync to greet the man walking up to her, pulling him in a one-armed hug. "Historia! Jet Englynd, " she introduced, Historia went to shake his hand, causing him to shiver at the touch. "'Ello, you must be the fine trio I'm takin' out this evening," Jet smiled, his gaze ignoring Gretchen in the background. </p><p><br/>
"You must have it parked somewhere nearby, yes?" Historia asked, Jet stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, lined with fur around the neck, and a patch is sewn onto the breast of the pocket. "Oh, of course! Follow me," he commanded, walking across the street with them following close by.</p><p><br/>
Historia remains amused when Jet strikes up small talk about her occupation, any pets, how she met Gretchen and Theodora, lying between her teeth on that one until it's enough to last them the journey to his biplane.</p><p><br/>
"Extended seats," Gretchen points out, taking one next to Historia as Theodora hopped next to Jet to point out where they were going. Historia is quiet because the plane does feel like old money.<br/>
The sky feels normal, with no overwhelming turbulence. Historia overhears Theodora whispering to Jet about landing just a few blocks away from the 'post' so they can walk the whole way through, and Jet's positive that it works with his bobbling head. Historia only peeks at Gretchen, and he's folded up nice and quiet, but the fabric of his pants under his palms remain creased with force.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The plane shifts down, clouds sliding against the metal and buildings come back into view - familiarity. Jet leaves first, allowing Theodora and Gretchen to step back onto the concrete below of the vacant lot. Historia hitches her duffle bag into the crook of her arm, sliding herself on the seats before being met with Jet's outstretched arm, which she takes.</p><p><br/>
"It was a nice ride," Historia admitted, The side of Jet's mouth quirked up. "Once you conquer the sky more, it all becomes the same, nice," Jet showed with a laugh. Historia ran a hand against the side of the plane, mindful to not scratch it. "How old is it?" Jet looked at her hand. "I reckon five years," Jet estimated, "And the girl still works," he said proudly, placing a fist against his puffed out chest, so Historia had to believe it was of his mechanic work.</p><p><br/>
"Historia!" Historia and Jet both looked at Theodora, who waved for Historia. "Sorry, Jet," she apologized, separating from him as he waved her away cheerfully.<br/>
Once Historia met the two, they started to walk, Historia poked Gretchen. "Yes?" "I'm not quite sure why you dislike him, he's alright, very cheerful," Gretchen looked forward. "You are correct," he said cryptically, but Historia brushed it off.</p><p><br/>
The spaces they passed by got more cramped, almost crushing between brick walls before the architecture finally let them out into the open, people walking by on their personal pads or hanging around the various streetlights and shop windows. Historia was drawn to the clock store down the street, the various chimes, hanging pendulums, and ticking soft, but noticeable. Theodora put a hand on Historia's back to usher her inside the glass-front post office. Packages and envelopes were dropped off into different crates to be scanned and teleported. </p><p><br/>
"Hey, wait here," Theodora directed the two, approaching an open booth but ringing an employee over instead of prompting the computer. A tanned, aged man walked over. "Hello, do you need anything?" he inquired peppily. Theodora looked around, pulling the envelope out and holding it in both hands. </p><p><br/>
<em>"Necesito que el paquete pea entregado a esta dirección,"</em>
</p><p><br/>
The man's face struck confused, wrinkled as he frowned, and lifted an eyebrow. </p><p><br/>
<em>"Espera, qué es eso-"</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>"¡Rápido!" </em>
</p><p><br/>
The man took the envelope quickly, going to place it into the crate.</p><p><br/>
Just then, somebody rushed into the post office, the swinging doors smashing against the windows violently as they shoved a briefcase into Historia's arms, rushing off through the closing doors.<br/>
Historia remained stunned at the impact, stretching her leg back to prevent her from falling onto the ground. She looked down at the briefcase, her eyes widened when she heard small ticks.<br/>
Theodora looked over. "HISTORIA!-"</p><p><br/>
Historia went to throw the briefcase down, but as it went into freefall, it blew, throwing Historia back into the window, the impact shattered and rained glass onto the pavement outside. Theodora looked over, seeing the envelope teleport just as the older man looked over in shock at the noise.</p><p><br/>
Theodora rushed over to Historia's body, being held in Gretchen's arms. </p><p><br/>
"Did the envelope deliver?" Gretchen yelled over the rushing crowds and sobbing children, Theodora nodded urgently. "We have to get her to the hos-" "We have no time!" Gretchen cussed, Theodora brought Historia's body into her arms and got up, stepping over the broken shards still riveted into the post office frame. "We must teleport to your apartment!" Gretchen called, running after a frantic Theodora. She threw the teleportation booth's door open with her foot. "WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING?!" Theodora screamed. Gretchen hurried into the booth just as the bright particles broke up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>theodora has guatemalan-american routes<br/>sorry for any bad spanish.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>"We have no time!" a doctor chimed in over the woman's unconscious body, an oxygen mask hastily clasped onto her face from the floating gurney while the nurses yelled over the controversy, easing the gurney into a surgery room. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>The doctor rushed behind a towering, large machine, falling onto the seat and turning the computer on. The metal, reaching tendrils of the machine roared to life, hovering over the woman and taking a part of what was once a full arm in its reach. The stump was charred but cauterized.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>A nurse placed down two metallic prosthetics, one just under the left arm and one under the right. The tendril took the arm gently, moving it closer to the stump whilst another tendril focused on getting rid of the burned scars.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The left prosthetic closed onto the upper arm, one tendril bolting it on and another focusing on the small sealing work of metal against flesh with a fine needle.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Once the new arms were riveted into place, the tendrils pulled away, folding into each other. The operating doctor pressed a button on the computer, another cord came out with a syringe full of a vague, grey-blue substance, wrapping around each arm to inject into the area where the prosthetics met the real body.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>The cord went back into the bulking machine, with the chair pushing back so the doctor and nurses could circle around the woman. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>"Do you think she'll come back for the regenerative stimulant?" a nurse asked quietly, the doctor shook his head.</em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>"No, we did good," he assured the nurse and leaned in to unclasp the oxygen mask.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p><br/>Historia jolted up with widened eyes, her shoulders rolling up and down with her hyperventilating. She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath to prevent ruthless hiccups. Historia dragged her eyes open, lifting her hand to check them - quite normal. She continued to flex her fingers anyway, turning her hand away from her palm to look at her dorsum. Historia stared before her face contorted, cringing from the sudden pain that came from her chest. </p><p><br/>Rubbing the back of her head, her hand dove from the side of the bed, scrambling to find her duffle bag, which was nearby and opened. She pulled out the watch, fixing the pillow so that she could turn onto her back and allow it to support her neck, checking the time.</p><p><br/><em>'Damn, I wish I could have traveled to a time where I wasn't in this much pain'</em> Historia thought, turning her head to the open window to fact-check her watch. The sun was still high up in the sky, where the honey glow would fade out as the morning became more normalized. Historia allowed a shiver.</p><p><br/>She gazed at herself in the mirror, instead of her purple turtleneck she now wore an oversized shirt, with some bandages wrapped around her forehead from the back of her head. She stroked them, feeling the white, patchy swaths of fabric under her curved fingers. Clicking the watch closed, she placed it down on the nightstand next to her with a groan, turning onto her side to fall back asleep.</p><p><br/>It was interrupted with the creaking of the door opening, Historia didn't look in its direction, simply inquiring with "...Elliot?" "No, Just Dr. Delacroux," Historia got up quickly, ignoring the sudden wave of vertigo scrambling her senses. "Where am I?" "Ms. Dallaway's bedroom, she and I endeavored ourselves to the residence of closest proximity to treat your wounds," Gretchen explained, walking over to Historia's side and pulling out a chair with his long leg, sitting down on it with a metal tray that he placed onto his lap. He looked oddly casual, his black overcoat and suit blazer ditched for a white dress shirt, red vest, and normal black tie, with the dress shirt sleeves, rolled up, exposing thin, pale arms. Other than that, he still wore his top hat, balaclava, and mask.</p><p><br/>"How long have I been unconscious?" Historia eased in, one hand visible on the covers while the other laid on the mattress, hidden under the heavy duvet.</p><p><br/> "Two days, however, this is negligible compared to my other patients that went through similar events and sustained similar injuries," Gretchen revealed, pulling on gloves that he had folded neatly in the corner of the spacious metal tray. He picked up a light, his thumb pressing on the bottom to turn it on. "Now, if you could tip your head forward," he ushered politely, Historia did so. Gretchen got in closer, unwrapping the bandages from her head and pulling back her hair tie, causing her hair to pool around her descended face. </p><p><br/>Gretchen shined the light onto her scalp, separating her hair to check it thoroughly. "Your lacerations seem to have healed quite nicely," he observed, using his fingers to keep Historia's head down. Gretchen clicked the light off, placing it back onto the tray and pouring alcohol onto a pad, softly going over Historia's injuries with light touches. She hissed from the cold burn, and finally, Gretchen pulled away, wrapping new bandages around her head once more. "You may now lift your head back up," Historia laid onto the pillow. </p><p><br/>Gretchen reached for Historia's arm, taking her bicep into his grasp and holding it out for inspection. Historia grit her teeth, but kept her mouth closed to bite back on any words. "No major injuries other than minor cuts...and bruising on the elbows from the impact," Gretchen rubbed more alcohol onto the small cuts littering Historia's arms, placing down the well-used pad onto the tray and Historia pulling her arm away. Gretchen paused. "I suppose you're quite sensitive there," he quipped simply, pulling off his gloves and taking the bowl of soup in the middle of the tray in one hand, placing it down on Historia's lap. The metal spoon clinked against the bowl. "Finish that," he required, getting up and also putting a cup of steaming tea on the nightstand next to her watch before leaving the room.</p><p><br/>Historia stared at the door, left ajar as she took a spoonful of hot soup into her mouth.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Gretchen left the room, the metal tray in hand but was stopped in his tracks when hands grasped his shoulders, shaking him. "DELACROUX! Is she alright?!" Theodora yelled. "Please cease," Gretchen asked, Theodora stopped, her hands dragging down his arms before she pulled them away and onto her hips. "Sorry, just...is she alright?" Theodora inquired quietly, and Gretchen nodded. "Yes," he started, walking to the kitchen to put the tray down and dispose of the items he used with Theodora quick on his heels.</p><p><br/>"Her wounds are healing quite nicely, as I have told her myself, however, I have noticed that it's much quicker progress than any of my other patients," Gretchen added, placing the tray down onto the counter next to the sink and pulling out a bag, dropping his gloves and the soaked pad into it. As he tied it, Theodora brought up "It's probably her body's reaction to the space travel," Gretchen opened the cabinet to place the small bag into the trash bin. "It's probable the rate of recovery was affected by her residence here," Gretchen theorized, going to wash his hands. Theodora heard the ringing and pulsing of her personal pad. "Hold on Delacroux, that's my job, they got the crystal," she clarified, swinging from the kitchen and rushing to her living room. </p><p><br/>Gretchen dried off his hands, ignoring Theodora talking to her colleagues in the other room. He put his white, cloth gloves back on, picking up an Earthian newspaper from the inside of Theodora's cabinet and closing the door. </p><p><br/>Gretchen was about to enter the bedroom but heard Historia conversating with somebody, so he took a few steps back and analyzed the cover to wait for it to end.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Mr. Mercer?" Historia requested quietly, eyes occasionally shifting to the door before receiving full focus on the pad once Mercer's line responded with an "Historia?"</p><p><br/> "Yes, look, I apologize for my inactivity at work-" "Where are you?" Mercer asked, and Historia swallowed - it hurt. "You know that recent bombing at the post office lately-" "Oh god, were you hurt? Are you okay?!" Mercer's pace quickened. "I'm fine, just a bit hurt is all. I just wanted to make sure you were informed," Historia went back. There was silence for a moment, other than Mercer's breathing. "It's fine, Historia. I'm wishing for your speedy recovery," Mercer sighed, and Historia smiled. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll be back to work soon," she confirmed.</p><p><br/> "That's great Historia. I'll see you later?"</p><p><br/> "Yes, good day, Mr. Mercer," she hung up, rubbing her forehead with her palm.</p><p><br/>Suddenly, Gretchen came into the room, an old Earthian newspaper in hand and going to sit in the chair from before. Historia looked at the cover curiously. "She still has those?" "Yes, Ms. Dallaway is fascinated with old events," Gretchen said half-heartedly, focused on the story written on the page. "Uh...if you don't mind me asking, why are you still here?" Historia was aware of her poor word choice, and she was sure Gretchen was as well, as he looked up at her. "You still require supervision of your condition, Ms. Moreau," he answered, going back to reading. </p><p><br/>Historia still looked at him, even when she took a sip of the tea and placed it back onto the counter. </p><p><br/>"Dr. Delacroux? Why don't you like being called by your given name?" she blinked. "It is not proper, nor professional,' he responded. "And the walking cane?" "It is most helpful with a mask."<br/>She accepted it.</p><p><br/>"Well, thank you for taking care of me anyway," she turned. 'It is my job, there is no need for thanks," he said. "Ms. Dallaway helped alongside my efforts, for she carried you here," he added, and it refreshed Historia's memory of the situation a little bit.</p><p><br/>"Dr. Delacroux...do you have any family from Earth?" "No, my parents were Natives," Historia estimated that he came from the capital district of Quebec. "How curious," she yawned.<br/>"And yourself?" Historia's lids halfway. "My parents were from France...although my Mother was part Korean," she answered, focusing on making the teacup in front of her blurry with sleep. "Fascinating," he whispered. Historia believed it to be so, and she wasn't half-lying either.</p><p><br/>"When we first met, did you like the casino?"</p><p><br/>"Not in particular,"</p><p><br/>"How did you meet Theodora?" she forced as the corners of her vision became unusable. "Rest," he simply said.</p><p><br/>Historia had to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
Gretchen watched Historia slowly ease into her unconscious state, reaching a hand to fix a crooked bandage and getting up. He folded the newspaper and tucked it under his arm, lifting the chair back between the closet and nightstand before leaving the room, silently closing the door by twisting the doorknob and not letting go until fully resting in the doorway.</p><p><br/>
He went into the kitchen, placing the newspaper back and ignoring the small twinkling wind chime hanging above the kitchen window, just between two wooden cabinets. He got up from his kneeling position, turning around to meet Theodora, holding all her work pads.</p><p><br/>
"Is she sleeping?" she mouthed, pointing down the hallway to her bedroom, Gretchen nodded and Theodora glanced down the hallway before looking back at him. "I finished my call with the precinct, they all reviewed the data crystal and agreed with my findings," she grinned, and under his mask, Gretchen lifted an eyebrow. </p><p><br/>
"Reviewed?" he questioned. "Oh, I forgot, this was on the side...of course, I wasn't finding it alongside my colleagues, I like them but I can't trust them enough for this project of mine," she said, tapping her foot on the wooden floor to turn and leave, the small tic telling Gretchen that he should follow, and so he did.</p><p><br/>
"You work alongside them, do you not? What is it that puts your colleagues in your state of distrust?" Gretchen glanced at Theodora's computer screen, which was just reviewing a previous case file. Theodora shrugged. 'Gut feeling, although they are just general detectives, even if they were specialized or had the experience it would drive my department mad," she said over her stack of holographs, placing them down onto the desk so she could place them into a briefcase. </p><p><br/>
"I see," Gretchen responded stiffly, walking ahead of Theodora to look out the window, supporting the leaning curtain with his finger. "Ms. Dallaway, have you made a suspect of Ms. Moreau's attacker?" Gretchen asked, watching the hovercars zip by on the roads and many of the construction men responsible for piloting the construction robots conversating with each other as they walked by the various buildings, beverages in hand. "I didn't see them enough to make a connection, I was focused on the crystal, sorry, Delacroux," Theodora sighed as she buckled the briefcase secure.</p><p><br/>
"Will you be departing?" "Yes, but not for this," she smacked the top of the briefcase, which gave a hollow, deep tap back. "I'm just going to go down and get some coffee," she said, hooking her hand around the handle of the briefcase and placing it under her desk against a leg. "You own the necessary machinery for your beverage here," Gretchen refuted. "I know, but I just want to go outside for a bit, is all," "Then I will escort you," Gretchen boldly stated. </p><p><br/>
'Then you will," Theodora went to the doorway, fetching her trenchcoat and ignoring Gretchen still in the living room, fixing his rolled-up sleeves. He showed up next to her, buttoning his blazer and putting on his overcoat.</p><p><br/>
Walking on the sidewalk, Gretchen took note of all of the on-break construction men around, bringing the observation to Theodora, who just tipped her head apathetically and went "It's for the post office, it's important after all."</p><p><br/>
Gretchen held the door open for Theodora when they got to the corner store, entering behind her. Theodora went to the back of the store, the service pad popped up when it sensed her presence and she began to tap on the holograph for her preferences. "How'd you want your coffee, Delacroux? Black, I'm guessing?" Gretchen switched his walking stick to his other hand. "Yes," Theodora chuckled, amused, and turned around, handing Gretchen the hot, paper mug. "You're so bland," she remarked, paying for their drinks and sipping her order.</p><p><br/>
"I prefer the expression 'minimalist'," Gretchen returned, keeping the coffee in his hold. Theodora pulled the cup from her lips, her expression tense. "How are you going to...drink it, you know..." she motioned to the mask. "I will simply savor it later in the evening, we shan't be out for an extended period of time unless I resort to reheating my drink," Theodora crinkled her nose. "You don't reheat coffee, Delacroux," "You are correct."</p><p><br/>
They stood in the pregnant silence, Theodora's eyes immediately flew to the other presence that entered the room, locating a few objects like a pack of cigarettes and a few packaged napkins, going across the room to scan and pay for his items, but their movements were odd. Theodora didn't quite like how the person seemed to linger just a bit too long, even when by the time they left Theodora had already gotten to the bottom of her cup of coffee.</p><p><br/>
She looked over to Gretchen, who assured her suspicions by tapping on his hand holding the cane with his index finger.</p><p><br/>
Theodora bent her knee to prepare for the trip and left the corner store with Gretchen.</p><p><br/>
Instead of walking right, they went deeper into the district, Theodora keeping track of the footsteps she could hear in the alcoves and alleyways of the buildings even if she and Gretchen traveled into a less populated area.</p><p><br/>
The two traveled into the area between two groups of buildings, the lights flickered above them and Gretchen could make out the large fence in the horizon that sealed off the exit even through his mask.</p><p><br/>
Gretchen stopped and made a sharp turn into the left alleyway, disappearing from view. Theodora lifted her head down, approaching the fence but stopping just a few feet from it. She pulled out her personal pad from her pocket, tapping on it to keep up her naive facade but also to check for any notifications from her work or her injured guest at home.</p><p><br/>
They took the bait Theodora beamed internally when she heard the almost muted tapping of the sun-dried concrete, the small 'woosh' and following click that came from the air that Theodora estimated was from a balisong knife. </p><p><br/>
The person went to raise their arm, going for their too-easy kill that was interrupted by fast motions, and before they knew it the doctor had pinned them down onto the ground, the knife out of sight.<br/>
Theodora looked to Gretchen, giving a thanking nod as she went to cut and light a cigar, readying herself for the interrogation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>The person seized under Gretchen, his teeth chittering and finally letting out a rocky grunt when Gretchen pushed his arm closer down on his back, twisting it in the process.</p><p><br/>Theodora blinked, holding her hand up at Gretchen. "Stop," she interjected, Gretchen looked up at her before looking back down and loosening his grip.</p><p><br/>Theodora knelt, she looked down at the person, holding his butterfly knife and swinging it half-heartedly. "You were an easy catch," she raised an eyebrow. The man spat back at her. "Fuck off! I get most of my kills," Theodora looked down at the knife, scratched and worn. It swung pretty loosely, sprouting from its handle with ease, which validated his statement.</p><p><br/>"Alright, let's say you do," Theodora stood up. "And I will be blunt now, who are you working for?" she circled the pinned man, Gretchen still glaring down at him with that unreadable mask. "Too easy," the man taunted, tired as he laid back down on the concrete, his gaze away from the two.</p><p><br/>"Fine then, I suppose. District?"</p><p><br/>"Cathedral City," the suspect forced out. "Giacomo Federation," he added on.</p><p><br/>Theodora glared. "I know my districts, boy," she reprimanded. "However, you wouldn't get a hit here, organized crime in Cathedral City is little to none. You would have to have been from...Saint Newts, or Dermicks to have been connected to the mafia, wouldn't you?" the suspect stayed silent.</p><p><br/>"There's our start there," Theodora clapped her hands together, causing the suspect to murmur something under his breath.</p><p><br/>"Although, I'll be honest with ya," she knelt next to him. "We're just getting started, so let's just make this nice and easy," she motioned for Gretchen to get off the man, which he did, standing back up and picking his cane off the ground. The suspect began to breathe heavily, taking oxygen back from his constricted chest.</p><p><br/>"Better?" The suspect nodded. "Good, we can truly progress now, person-to-person. What were your intentions...in trying an attempt on my life?" The suspect held back a scoff. "My orders," he replied. "Yours or another?" "I work for myself, detective, nothing more complicated than that."</p><p><br/>"Is that so? Then what's your grudge against me?" she got closer to him. "I've had my occasional news stories, but nothing too detailed," she raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong, related to another suspect of mine? Dislike how my cases go or how I solve 'em?"</p><p><br/>"I have my reasons, and trust me, detective, none of them are related to your career," he yawned.</p><p><br/>"Trust you? Oh! But you've attempted my life already, do you solve all of your grudges with this?" she waved the butterfly knife.</p><p><br/>"It works," "But it doesn't anymore, now you must atone," she smirked, pulling the closed knife away.</p><p><br/>"You can't say you don't know that your colleagues haven't thought about it before," his eyes pulled towards the knife. "There's a concept called trust, sir," Theodora told off.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Now I know this isn't a crime of passion.</em>
</p><p><br/>"Of course, there's no reason to suspect why not, after all, this just so happens to be after I mailed something...well, let's just say 'confidential' to my precinct," The suspect snickered. "Telling of your precinct's activity so early in?"</p><p><br/>"Well, you wouldn't know that, would you? News travels fast, sir. Maybe you just so happen to be responsible for the bombing as well," Theodora theorized. "She had it coming," the suspect responded. "You don't even recall her name," Theodora tsked.</p><p><br/>"There was no need to, assuming it worked," Theodora zeroed in on the suspect's involuntary twitching of his mouth, raising the corners before he grimaced again. <br/>"You're bluffing," Theodora called out.</p><p><br/>"No,"</p><p><br/>"You have no reason to have a problem with her, sir,"</p><p><br/>"You don't know that"</p><p><br/>"Then why resort to such grievous property damage? You should have used your knife on her like you usually do, you pride yourself on your kills, do you not?"</p><p><br/>"It would have worked if she were normal," he asserted. "However, I wouldn't be able to see that, remember? She's around you two all the time, I'm not touching her with bodyguards," he said flatly.</p><p><br/>"I doubt you would, considering how short-range your weapon is," "You talk about it like you have the experience," he pointed out smugly. "Common sense," Theodora snarked.</p><p><br/>"You target her, then me, would you have gone for him sometime soon?" the shift in topic got Gretchen's attention, and he looked down at the suspect quietly. Even though he didn't make it apparent, Theodora could see from her peripheral that Gretchen's grip on the top of his walking cane got tighter.</p><p><br/>"You think your little trio's a package deal?" the suspect mumbled.</p><p><br/>"Yes, after all, why else would you target the both of us? Why her first?"</p><p><br/>The suspect paused. "She was the most vulnerable, after all,"</p><p><br/>"Wrong. She had him with her," she pointed to Gretchen. "Who could have easily healed her wounds once she went down, I was only with an employee," she reasoned. "It would have done best to target the center person of your grudge, and surprisingly, sir, I was the one who looked out for her."</p><p><br/>He stayed silent.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>Truly, he has no reason to pass himself off as the bomber unless he's trying to protect the other assassin hired under the same person.</em>
</p><p><br/>"Let me ask you again, are you working for a crime group, business, or another person?"</p><p><br/>"I told you! I work for myself,"</p><p><br/>"Not very profitable unless you have somebody paying you for it, sir,"</p><p><br/>Theodora peered at Gretchen. </p><p><br/>"Especially when you're going for such high targets,"</p><p><br/>The suspect narrowed his eyes at her. </p><p><br/>"I take back what I said earlier, you're talking just now like you have no experience,"</p><p><br/>Theodora glared at him but looked down at her shortened cigar, the flame had eaten away at the body and sparked at her lips, tickling them with a soft sting.</p><p><br/>"Hold on, watch over him," Theodora ordered Gretchen, turning around and walking around the corner to dispose of her cigar and execute her small break.</p><p><br/>Gretchen looked down at the suspect, stepping towards him with his cane, taunting him with the heavy slaps of the cane against the concrete and his heels.</p><p><br/>"You don't scare me," he snapped, and Gretchen got closer, suddenly lifting his cane and bringing it down on the back of the suspect's knee, causing him to wince.</p><p><br/>"No, I suppose I do not bring you to a state of fright," Gretchen started, bringing the cane down again and hearing a small crack from the impact, causing the suspect to cry out slightly. Gretchen knelt, using his left hand to clasp the suspect's jaw shut, bringing it closer to his upper mouth and using his other hand to support the back of the suspect's head, Gretchen's knee placed strategically on the injured knee.</p><p><br/>Gretchen squeezed the jaw up, hearing the chattering of the suspect's stressed teeth. He grabbed the suspect's hair using the fingers on the back of the head, lowering the suspect's head towards him, readying the face for the pavement. He ignored the small pop and crack that came from the suspect's closed mouth.</p><p><br/>"I will not cease, and I will not hesitate to strike your mandible against the pavement," Gretchen threatened, as soft-spoken as ever. The suspect's eyes squeezed shut, and he made a panicked, concerned noise from his throat when Gretchen went to drive his head against the concrete, causing Gretchen to stop in the process. The suspect looked at him, wide-eyed as he pointed at Gretchen's hand imprisoning his jaw, and Gretchen let go.</p><p><br/>"I'll...I-I'll tell her," he promised, Gretchen focused on the half-split tooth in his mouth, and got up, tucking his waistcoat from under his overcoat and retrieving his cane, walking back far from the suffering body.</p><p><br/>They marinated in the suspicious silence until Theodora's footsteps were heard, revealing her coming back from the corner. </p><p><br/>"We'll try this again," Theodora held up her index finger, getting closer to the suspect. "Do you work for yourself or a third party?"</p><p><br/>The suspect's eyes shifted to Gretchen for a split second, shaking and opening his mouth. "Yes..."</p><p><br/>"Yes to what?"</p><p><br/>"I... work for a third party,"</p><p><br/>"That's better, and will you be a doll and tell?"</p><p><br/>The suspect's eyebrows knitted together in conflict, which was quickly overshadowed with a "You know the CEO of the biggest casino company in Giacomo? Her..."</p><p><br/>Theodora nodded, his confession confirmed her suspicions, but came with the wave of impending trepidation.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <em>That means they found out about our investigation.</em>
</p><p><br/>Theodora wrapped her arm under the suspect's, easing him up with a "Come on," and jolting back when the suspect gave a small noise of pain from his leg. </p><p><br/>"Delacroux, what is this? I don't think he had it earlier," she noted. "Perhaps it explains why his attempt on your life was only a mere attempt," He ran his thumb down the first button of his waistcoat. "No matter, it is easily treatable."</p><p><br/>Theodora pulled out manacles from her pocket, securing them on the subject's wrists and walking them to a nearby teleportation booth, Gretchen striding behind them.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Gretchen waited outside a precinct hospital in a chair, his hand wrapped around a hollow coffee cup and his cane leaning against the metal rests of the chair.<br/>He stood up when the door clicked open, Theodora coming out of it and facing Gretchen. </p><p><br/>"You finally finished that thing?" she looked at the cup. "Yes, I had excused myself and consumed it in private. It remained mildly hot, Ms. Dallaway," he revealed, and Theodora placed a hand on her hip.</p><p>"Well, you're determined, I'll give you that, Delacroux," she said.</p><p><br/>"Yes," "Oh well, let's just get back, Historia should be up by now," she urged him along as she went down the hallway, taking an alternative exit to get to the booth quicker.</p><p><br/>Once Theodora and Gretchen got to the apartment, they could hear typing from the living room, and Theodora went down the hallway, peeking through the doorway to see Historia at the desk, her head still wrapped in bandages but her hands busy with the task.</p><p><br/>Theodora cleared her throat, and Historia glanced up at her. "Oh, sorry, I had work to do, I hope you don't mind," Historia apologized, pulling her hands away from the keyboard and cupping them under the desk. Theodora rolled her eyes, taking off her coat. </p><p><br/>"How did you access my computer?"</p><p><br/>"You left it open," Historia pointed out.</p><p><br/>"Ah, bullshit," Theodora cursed, placing her coat on the back of her chair. "Oh well. Delacroux and I were supposed to be out for just a moment, but we got carried away with something,"</p><p><br/>"What?"</p><p><br/>"Surprise interrogation," Theodora grinned.</p><p><br/>Historia blinked, placing an empty data crystal into the slot to export her writing.</p><p><br/>"DELACROUX! Get in here, I have to tell you both something important," Historia cringed from the yelling so close to her ears.</p><p><br/>Gretchen entered but immediately went to Historia, checking the back of her head before pulling away. </p><p><br/>"Look, Historia, I had the surprise interrogation because some guy tried to backstab me, he confessed that he was hired by Telltale," she said, and Historia took a strand of hair between her fingers. "So, she found out the investigation already?" Theodora looked at her, solemn. "I don't know how she did, but she did anyway."</p><p><br/>"We have nothing more to hide or lose now, wouldn't it be best to get the precinct to release the findings now?"</p><p><br/>"Yes, it would," Theodora agreed.</p><p><br/>The room felt full like they were drowning in thin, but plentiful air.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ending chapter</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>Historia stopped at the front lawn of her house, her chest heaving to catch a break and bring some air back into her body. She clenched her hand into a fist, pounding two times on her chest before allowing her hand to fall to her side and opening the door.</p><p><br/>The lights were off, but Historia slid into the house anyway, closing the door and putting up her coat, umbrella, hat, and duffle bag on the coatrack, using the time after when her hands weren't busy to flick the light switch on.</p><p><br/>"Elliot?" she called out, wandering up the stairs and stopping when the black cat came to her feet, her gaze softened at the animal. </p><p><br/>"There you are, Elliot. I've missed you a lot," Historia went down towards Elliot, who curled up and purred at her presence's sheer warmth, before looking up at her head. Historia's hand dove towards the bandages, wrapped on the back of her head and its artificial temperature set to cold, but hot above her ears. Previously, before she left Theodora's apartment, Gretchen had pinned the setting bandages to the back of her head using clips to 'prevent the unnecessary discomfort given by your relatively quick recovery' as he so put it.</p><p><br/>The cat rubbed the edge of her shoe with her paw, Historia looked down at the motions, but she didn't reprimand her as she would usually do, hinted by the dark bags under her eyes matching black scleras.</p><p><br/>"We'll go feed you, Elliot," Historia whispered, patting the side of her thigh to signal Elliot as they went down the stairs, Historia going into the kitchen, grabbing a creased and noisy bag to shuffle some of the cat's food into its bowl. The cat dove at the plate immediately, lowering its head to feast.</p><p><br/>Historia placed the bag back, closing the cabinet door and striding into her study, going over to her computer, and inserting the crystal into the slot before she turned it on.</p><p><br/>She opened her editing program, combining her most recent file on the crystal with her larger project, satisfied with its length so far.</p><p><br/>Historia grasped a wire, pulling it out of one slot and putting it in another on the side of the computer's emulator. </p><p><br/>"Computer, contact Oscar Mercer," she ordered whilst continuing with her work, words rapidly appearing on the screen. She reached out her hand, minimizing the window and gliding it to the side to prepare for Mercer's appearance.</p><p><br/>"Stand-by for transmission," the computer chimed, going silent as another pop-up appeared with the text that read Loading against a dark backdrop.</p><p><br/>The screen faded and Mercer appeared, his short and curly brown hair slicked back with his crooked black glasses. His backdrop was a large, dark bookcase. It was neat but dusty.</p><p><br/>"Hi Historia, you just got back now?" he asked, looking down at his desk. Historia could hear the work pads clanking against each other. "Yes, I did. It's a bit late but my doctor wouldn't give me the go-ahead until he secured my sensory bandage to my head," she pointed at the shiny fabric and its metal clips, glowing in the golden hour haze.</p><p><br/>"Well?" Mercer lifted his eyebrows. "Are they comfortable, at least?" Historia gave a thumbs up. "Yes, the cold isn't too piercing," she rubbed the back of her head instinctively, but Mercer's eyes creased. "What are you doing?" Historia looked down at her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, old Earth practice," she said, placing her palm flat against her desk. Mercer chuckled. "Even picking up on their old habits," he said, taking a drink of something off-screen.</p><p><br/>"Listen, though. This is critical," Historia swallowed. "Something happened to another colleague of mine, and they believe it's intentional, and because of how close I became with them and the nature of their activities, I'll have to leave the planet for...to be quite honest? An undefined period," Historia said, and Mercer remained silent.</p><p><br/>"I, of course, can't just leave Elliot for that long as I already have. She can leave the house sometimes and wander around, hunting her prey, but in general, she relies on me," Historia added on. "I will focus on my work for the remnants of my time off the planet, but otherwise, I'm trusting you to look out for my house and Elliot," she asked. "I'll send you money over time, even when I'm not on planet," she bargained, and Mercer nodded. </p><p><br/>"You've done a lot for our block of history, Historia. I will," Historia held back her sigh of relief. "Thank you, Oscar. I'll allow a replicated version of my key in a few days prime," she promised, and Mercer agreed. </p><p><br/>"I'll see you later, then?" "Yes, you will. Have a good evening, Oscar," she said, Mercer repeated the sentiment before his face left the screen, and Historia went back to her work.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Theodora walked into her precinct building, many detectives rushing around and handing each other work pads and data crystals between each movement, some even reaching their arm out to hand another detective the needed objects through a hologram, piercing the displayed information and slides with their limbs before pulling out and leaving the surface unpenetrated. </p><p><br/>"What's going on here?" Theodora went around another desk to get to her own, directing her question to the other detective facing her. "Ever since you brought that guy here they're on edge because they're rushin' to get the investigations in the public eye while also having to balance all that evidence," she replied, nonchalantly popping a chip into her mouth before wiping her fingers down with a napkin, rolling her chair into her desk and pushing a button on a work pad to activate its screen. </p><p><br/>"I'll give you credit though, not only did you manage to...I guess somehow keep it from us but you also had enough evidence to save years of examination," she complimented, her attention was pulled away when another detective leaned over her shoulder to whisper something, which caused her to jump up from her chair and walk away to follow the person.</p><p><br/>Theodora got up from her desk, going to the room at the end of the room to see her captain but was interrupted by another directing a question towards her.</p><p><br/>"I have a document somewhere that answers that question, ask Raymonds for it," she said, the person thanking her while Theodora twisted the knob and enter the office. The captain looked at her, allowing the blinds to fall back. </p><p><br/>"I've reviewed the documents myself before you make any remarks," he rasped, going towards his desk. "Impressive, but the stunt wasn't needed,"</p><p><br/>Theodora stuffed her hands into her jean pockets. "We're basically dead around here anyways, too quiet. That's not what I'm here for though,"</p><p><br/>"Ask away,"</p><p><br/>"My deskmate, Washington said they're publishing the investigation to the public eye. Are you in the process of writing it now?"</p><p><br/>"Yes. Our journalist is typing away as we speak. They should release the article by tomorrow and the activity of the station should decrease quite obviously,"</p><p><br/>"Good, good," Theodora started, and hesitated for a second before asking "I have requirements though,"</p><p><br/>"What?"</p><p><br/>"One, my name will not be released to the press, I will only be known under the group of detectives investigating the case. Two, our most recent suspect was caught, but another person who attacked one of my colleagues, out of our field, is still out there,"</p><p><br/>The captain lowered his raised hand.</p><p><br/>"...Yeah, so I might have to go out of the planet to prevent my targeting, considering the two attempted attacks were near my apartment,"</p><p><br/>"You will have to go, no matter what,"</p><p><br/>Theodora held her hands up. "Yes, yes, I know. I'll continue working over the computer, but otherwise, I can't come back to Monroe unless I know I won't be hunted again,</p><p><br/>"I'll allow it, but do you know where you're going? A colony, maybe a moon? I heard the technomages are secretive,"</p><p><br/>"Secretive, yes, but they're still in Xesbvecistan, it's too obvious, even with their shielding,"</p><p><br/>"So you're implying...?"</p><p><br/>"Out of planet," Theodora said.</p><p><br/>"Whatever will keep you hidden, Theodora,"</p><p><br/>Theodora bowed her head swiftly, smiling at the captain. "Thank you, sir," she left his office.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Gretchen laid his open suitcase on his well-made bed, turning around and picking out the neatly-folded clothing from his ebony drawers, which mainly consisted of his blazers, ties, dress shirts, and pants. He placed them into the corners, tucking them in until the suitcase was nicely filled out.</p><p><br/>Gretchen went to his dresser, opening it and pulling out two overcoats, taking them to his bed to fold them and place them over the rest of his clothing. Once he was satisfied with the result, he used his hand to push the suitcase closed and buckle it securely shut. He took the handle, placing the suitcase next to his drawers and going to close his dresser doors.<br/>He left his bedroom, going down the dim hallway whilst the chandeliers above them twinkled charmingly.</p><p><br/>He went into the sitting room, lowering himself onto the futon and grasping the hot, steaming cup between his fingers and ignoring the small plate of pastries on the coffee table for later.<br/>He looked up at the painting above the window, illuminated by the lights above, and raised the cup.</p><p><br/>"Cheers," he wished the object and pulled off the black plague doctor's mask reserved for his lonesome, home activities and drank from the cup.</p><p><br/>The darkness outside chirped, cheering back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>continued in book 2, no rest for the living.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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